Brazen (B-Squad #1) (12 page)

A
drenaline zooming through her veins
, Bianca braced her feet on the golf cart’s footboard as they careened around a palm tree on the zig-zagging trail leading to the far end of the resort. Lucky for them, the trail was deserted as they approached the area where they’d spotted Gidget. The list of things that could go wrong—already
had
gone wrong—ran through her head like the opening credits to
Star Wars
. They were so close though, she had to believe this time would be different. It had to be.

Still, the timing of it all had her on edge. She grabbed her phone.

BIANCA: ANY MOVEMENT ON SURVEILLANCE?

LEXIE: NADA

BIANCA: COULD THEY HAVE GRABBED HER?

LEXIE: ONLY IF THEY DID SO IN THE TEN SECONDS IT TOOK ME TO HOOK INTO THAT FEED AFTER YOU TEXTED ME. THE SIGHT LINES AREN’T PERFECT AND THERE’S NO THERMAL IMAGING BUT VISUALS SHOW NO MOVEMENT.

BIANCA: COPY THAT.

LEXIE: ON OUR WAY TO RENDEZVOUS POINT.

BIANCA: GOT IT.

She shoved her phone back in the chemise’s pocket. What she wouldn’t do right now for a frickin’ pair of jeans and her SIG SAUER. The team was bringing her favorite handgun with them, along with the rest of the portable armory. If they ran into trouble before getting Gidget off the island, they’d be prepared.

Of course, that was then. Right now, she was a mostly naked chick in a souped-up golf cart armed with nothing more than hope and some badass martial arts skills.

“Do you see her?” Taz asked as he took another turn at breakneck speed—for a golf cart, at least.

“Not yet, but that’s the spot.” She pointed to a trio of palm trees near an empty bench where the single path turned into four, each leading off in a different direction.

Taz slowed the golf cart to a stop and they both rushed out into the clearing.

“Gidget,” she whisper-yelled, not wanting to blow her friend’s cover if Walsh was hot on her heels. “It’s Bianca. We’re here to take you home.”

The only sound was the soft breeze coming in from the Pacific as it ruffled the palm tree’s broad leaves. Her stomach fluttered as she searched the dim area around the bench. It was all palm trees with fat trunks, decorative shrubs and brightly painted concrete statues, but no Gidget.

Fuck. They were too late.

She opened her mouth to call out one more time, but movement on the periphery caught her eye. The woman had grass in her hair, dark circles under her eyes and the hyperkinetic trapped-rabbit vibe, but there was no mistaking her identity.

Relief swept through her. “Gidget.”

“Bianca?” she asked, her voice raw, as she hung back near a large shrub. “Is it really you?”

It took a second for the reason behind the question to click. But as soon as it did, Bianca reached up and yanked the blonde wig off, dropping it to the ground and shaking out her shoulder-length brown hair.

“It’s me.”

Gidget’s eyes went wide before a small, disbelieving smile tugged at her lips that accentuated the way her chin trembled.

Shit. She knew exactly how her friend felt. Finally finding Gidget bordered on the unreal. For a moment, neither of them moved, and then everything was a blur as they ran to each other. Bianca wrapped her arms around Gidget’s shaking shoulders and squeezed her tight. She clamped her jaw tight, but dammit, the tears were coming anyway. There was nothing to be done about it, and frankly she didn’t give a shit. They’d found her. They’d
finally
found her.

Glancing back at Taz, she gave him a shaky smile. This had never been his quest, but that hadn’t stopped him from being with her every step of the way. She mouthed “thank you” over Gidget’s shoulder, but didn’t—couldn’t—let her friend go.

After one last squeeze, Gidget stepped out of Bianca’s arms. Her eyes were bright with tears. “You shouldn’t have come.”

“Of course I did,” Bianca said, practically floating on the high of finding Gidget. “We’re all here, Vivi, Lexie and Elisa. We’d never give up on you.”

Gidget gulped, her face pinched up as if in pain, and her gaze flickered to the left for a split second.

Damn. Whatever Walsh had done to her with Genie’s Wish, it had totally wrecked the brash woman with a knife-sharp wit.

“Don’t worry.” She brushed back a strand of red hair from Gidget’s face and then reached out for her hand. “They can’t hurt you anymore. Come on, we’ve got to get you out of here. Does Walsh know you’re missing?”

“No,” her voice squeaked as she looked around her as if predators were closing in. “Neither of them do.”

Gidget pulled her hand from Bianca’s and stepped back.

An icy unease trickled through Bianca’s veins as she glanced around. The hair on the back of her neck stood up and a line of goose bumps popped up on her forearms. Every nerve in her body went on alert.

“Neither of them?” Taz asked, stepping next to Bianca.

There was a sudden movement to the left. Bianca spun around, fists ready. Two shadows broke away from behind the large concrete statue reproduction of “Leda and the Swan.”

Two people. Arms loose at their sides, hands open. The fact that they were apparently unarmed didn’t do anything to lessen the fight-or-flight response sharpening her senses and sending a jolt of adrenaline though her body.

“I believe she means us,” a petite woman said, stepping into the clearing lit by the lights along the path.

The second shadow joined her. Sterling Walsh. Not exactly a shock, but not who Bianca wanted to see right now. The woman though, recognition tugged at her memory but refused to break free.

“It’s been a long time, Bianca.”

That voice. She
knew
that voice, if not the person it came out of. Yasmin Romanow. She’d been a student with them at St. B’s—and judging by the way Walsh stayed a step or two behind her, was the one actually in charge.

“Why?” Bianca voiced the question clanging in her head.

“Does it matter?” Yasmin asked dismissively. “Gidget, we’ve got to work on your lying. That wasn’t convincing at all.” She looked behind Taz and Bianca. “But you still managed to lead at least one of the St. B’s bitches here. I expected more of a challenge from the B-Squad after all the research I’d done on your little group. Oh well, I’ve always been a fan of taking the easy win.”

She pressed a dog-training clicker and five burly men strutted out of a toolshed. Large and muscular, they were the kind of goons who’d be perfect for a Bond villain. That wasn’t what sent ice down Bianca’s spine though.

“Taz.” She readied her stance. “Look at their eyes.”

They were totally blank. It was as if they hadn’t had a thought of their own in decades.

“Fuck me, Genie’s Wish.”

“Ding. Ding. Give that man a prize,” Yasmin said. “But these fellas aren’t juiced up for love, like everyone else on the island. I’ve given them orders of a different kind.”

She pressed the clicker again and the whole world went to hell.

* * *

Just like they’d practiced in drills at Devil’s Dip Gym, he and Bianca instantly took positions next to each other, guards up and fists ready. He’d smashed faces for a living for too long to be worried by a gang of thugs who, even as big as they were, wouldn’t make it thirty seconds in shitass neighborhood he’d grown up in.

“Grab Gidget and get out of here.” A feral grin transformed his face as the men approached. “I got these five.”

“I don’t think so.” Using her thumb, she cracked each knuckle on her right hand, her eyes never leaving the duo splitting off from the others and come around to her side. “We’ll clean up this mess faster together. You heard Yasmin, she’s not going anywhere without me, and I’m not leaving you to face down these guys yourself.”

Both men loomed several inches taller than her, the size advantage increased by their vein-popping bulk. One with golden surfer hair looked Bianca up and down, his leering gaze never going higher than her tits or lower than her hips. It took everything he had not to jump the prick for his audacity, but he couldn’t let his anger give them any more of an upper hand.

Laughing, surfer dude nudged his bald buddy and let out a stream of fast-clipped Hawaiian pidgin too fast for him to follow.

Whatever it was they said, it was enough to have her narrowing her eyes. Raising her fists to protect her face, she rolled her weight to the balls of her feet—just like he’d taught her—then blew the closest thug a kiss…not included in Taz’s lessons.

“Taz, you might want to start watching your own twelve o’clock instead of mine.” She shook out her shoulders and moved her head back and forth to loosen her neck muscles. “Unless you like getting your ass kicked.”

He jerked his attention to the trio of gym rats headed toward him, the kind who pumped up and then spent twenty minutes taking selfies. They weren’t pushovers, but they weren’t fighters either. Their awkward gaits and tensed bodies made plain that their muscles were more for show than street work. He wasn’t worried.

“You’re a real smartass, Kitten.”

Bianca made kiss-kiss noises. “You know you love my ass—smart or not.”

The long-haired guy in front of him tensed his right side and fisted his hand, telegraphing the upcoming punch so obviously that people in space could have seen it.
Jesus, that was just poor form.

Right as the dude wound up, Taz landed an uppercut to his chin that snapped the other man’s head back like a rubber band. He stumbled back, but he wasn’t about to give the idiot a chance to get his bearings. His second punch connected with his left eye, which he followed with a hook that landed with a crunch against the man’s chin.

Wrapping his arm around the guy’s neck in a chokehold, he pivoted just enough to use him as a shield against a poorly planned haymaker from one of his compatriots, The hit landed square in the long-haired dude’s temple. The punch made Taz take a step back, so he wasn’t surprised when the guy’s knees gave way and he turned into a wet noodle in Taz’s arms.

Bracing his feet, he shoved the dead weight at Mr. Haymaker. Hard. The momentum took both men to the ground. In a welcome bit of good luck, at least for Taz, Mr. Haymaker’s head bounced off the stone path hard enough to put him out of commission.

He readied himself for the third man, who approached more cautiously than the first two, but kept watch on Bianca out of the corner of his eye. She executed a perfect roundhouse kick that leveled her opponent.

Damn. She was one brazen, badass bitch. He loved it. He loved her.

Yasmin, Walsh and Gidget stood off to the side, watching the action. None of them made a move to join the fray. Another piece of luck.

“You doing okay, Kitten?” He bounced on the balls of his feet and took stock of the approaching man.

“Fine and dandy, darling.” She sounded a little winded, but otherwise in top form. “Don’t get cocky now. You still have one to go.”

He assessed his new opponent. Taz had an easy two inches on him, giving him the wing- and leg-span advantage, but the guy’s deep tan just made the pale knife scar along his jaw stand out more. That, along with the prison tattoo of three tears near his left eye, gave the him a truly menacing vibe. Now this was someone who knew how to roll on the street.

All the lessons he’d learned from Freddie when he was still just a lanky teen with a temper came into perfect focus. Keep your guards up. Don’t stop moving. Attack first. Hit hard and hit often. Don’t stop until they don’t get up again.

The whump of a body hitting a hard object sounded off to his left, followed by a moan of agony. Mr. Street Fighter’s gaze flicked to the side for a split second. Long enough for him to get off two solid punches to his face. Blood streamed from the man’s broken nose.

Sucking in a deep breath, Taz made a quick check on Bianca’s progress. Her opponent must have landed a few blows because one side of her face was already turning purple. As bad as that was, it was better than the way the guy was trying to balance on one leg, since the other had been rendered useless.

“Hey, asshole,” the man hollered before landing a solid jab to Taz’s gut.

Pain exploded in his abdomen and all the air whooshed out of his lungs. The other guy had the gall to grin at him as he dragged the back of one meaty hand across his upper lip, smearing the blood from his busted nose across the right side of his face.

Not waiting for his opponent to make the next move, Taz landed a hard power punch to the man’s right cheekbone. Then executed a series of body blows to the guy’s solar plexus.

“Enough, we have who we need for the final test. The others were just gravy,” Yasmin said from somewhere behind him. “Finish it.”

Her voice barely registered over the blood rushing in his ears, but the sound of an electric zap close to Bianca’s position came through loud and clear.

Before he could turn to make sure she was okay, his opponent landed a right hook that had Taz seeing stars. Fighting to stay conscious, he lashed out in a flurry of punches. After that it was a straight-up brawl. Punches. Kicks. Vicious blows. Low blows. Counterattacks. Furious speed-punching assaults.

His swollen right eye could only open halfway. Agony thumped his brain against his skull with every breath. His steps had slowed. Blood covered his knuckles. His? The other guy’s? Who the fuck knew.